The Malfoy Children: Books 1 through 3
by Gemina Decker
Summary: Draco felt quite proud of his reputation at school, at least until the arrival of his sister. Ariadne is meek, passive and unassuming; nothing like a Slytherin - let alone a Malfoy - should be. Will adversity lead to family bonding or sibling rivalry? The series as told from the perspective of the Malfoy siblings. Minor plot changes. Summaries are not my strong suit.
1. Chapter 1

Ariadne stood on Platform 9 ¾ with her arms tightly crossed, lips firmly posed in a pout, and eyes beginning to fill with tears. Her mother knelt before her, trying to coax a smile unto her face, or at the very least to prevent a public temper tantrum. Typically, Ariadne was not her problem child. At least, she hadn't been for the past few years. The young girl possessed a rather happy temperament, and she was normally quite easy to please, unlike like her son who was requiring increasingly elaborate presents to be even briefly satisfied. A majority of the time, though, he remained moody and aloof, already hinting at disastrous and angst-ridden teenage years to come at the tender age of eleven.

"Mother," Ariadne began, her tears evident in her voice, "must he really go?"

Before her mother could respond, her father appeared by her side. "Come now, Ariadne, Malfoy's do not make a spectacle of themselves, particularly in such a public setting."

Ariadne straightened quickly, wiping her tears surreptitiously with the back of her hand, as her mother Narcissa rose to stand next to her husband. Lucius watched as his daughter composed herself, nodding approvingly.

"That's a good girl," he said, patting her head distractedly. "Draco!" he called out suddenly.

Seconds later, her brother emerged from the train. "Sorry, Father, I wanted to find the best spot to store my truck." He glanced at Ariadne, his face dropping into a sneer. "What's wrong with her?"

Narcissa shot him a sharp look over the girl's shoulder. "Your sister is sad that you are leaving, Draco."

Draco looked at the young girl with disgust. "But _why?"_

Lucius clapped his hand sharply on his son's shoulder. "Draco, I will have none of that today." He didn't have time to finish scolding his son though before the Crabbe family arrived, the sons and fathers immediately falling into easy conversation. Narcissa exchanged a few required pleasantries with Mrs. Crabbe, but seeing as the women had never been more than circumstantial friendly acquaintances, the two could not seem to keep up a steady conversation like their husbands and sons.

Draco led Vincent onto the train to secure a spot in the same compartment as himself. His father and Lucius kept up their conversation, but Narcissa, whose conversation with Mrs. Crabbe had long since died off, knelt down in front of Ariadne once again, fussing with her braids.

"Mother, will I ever get to see him?" she asked quietly so that her father wouldn't hear.

"Of course, darling. He'll be home for holidays and such." Narcissa responded comfortingly.

"Soon?"

"Well," Narcissa began a bit hesitantly, "for Christmas."

"Christmas! But, Mother, that's so _long_," she groaned.

Truth be told, Ariadne and Draco were not exactly what one would call "close." Her brother was a bit too, well, disagreeable to put it nicely, to foster a very cozy brother/sister relationship. But he was familiar. And he was about the only thing in that dark, dreary old mansion that they called home that could ever seem to lend some excitement to her life.

Since they were children, her and Draco had taken their lessons together every day, and his snide side commentary had always helped to liven up even the most boring of subjects. When they were still very young, they had always played together – well, if Draco ordering Ariadne around and always choosing the exact activity that they exchanged in qualified as playing "together." When their parents had elaborate parties or prestigious guests, they always disappeared upstairs together when their presence was no longer required to quip about the oddities and idiosyncrasies of the various wizarding elite.

So, for Ariadne, her distress was perhaps much less about missing her brother – Merlin knows he wasn't always the most agreeable company – and much more about missing companionship and dreading the inevitable onslaught of monotony. Sure, her mother and father loved her in their own ways, but no one would ever really define Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy as particularly "fun" or "playful" parents. No, it was looking like a year full of pedantic tutors, stiff-backed formal dinners, and many hours spent working through the family's library collection.

Draco and Vincent returned after stowing the boy's truck to reveal that the train was filling up rather quickly. Draco stated with as much authority as his squeaky prepubescent voice could muster that he thought it was high time to be off and get settled into their car before all of the spots were taken.

"Can you imagine getting stuck in a car full of Hufflepuffs?" he scoffed disgustedly.

Thus, the round of official farewells commenced. Vincent's mother gave him a tearful hug, and his father patted him heartily on the back. Lucius put a hand on Draco's shoulder, reminding him to perform well and "behave in a manner befitting to the family name." Narcissa briefly embraced her son, but without all of the theatrics of the other mother beside her. Narcissa Malfoy was not one for public displays of emotion. They were far below her station.

Finally, it was Ariadne's turn. Only Draco did not address her, he simply moved to walk towards the train.

"Draco," their mother called warningly, "aren't you going to say goodbye to your sister?"

Draco knew by her all-too-familiar tone that it was less of question than an order, so he heaved a dramatic sigh and turned to face Ariadne.

"Well, see ya, I guess."

And with that, he was off, hopping onto the train and never glancing back.


	2. Chapter 2

Narcissa seemed intent on distracting her daughter from her disappointment over Draco leaving her behind. Her workload for schooling almost doubled, with new tutors arriving every few weeks. She had lessons in Mathematics, Latin, History (mostly of the wizarding variety), Literature (entirely of the wizarding variety), and French as she had for years; but before long Narcissa had added Astronomy, Greek, even Charms – though of course she wasn't allowed to actually cast any charms herself. Her mother had attempted to add a flying teacher as well, but after one lesson Ariadne threw a fit of such grand proportions that he was sacked on the spot. She had always had a fear of heights and definitely did not share her brother's zeal for flying.

Draco wrote home letters frequently, though never any addressed to Ariadne personally. Instead, she peered over the shoulders of her mother and father as they read them. Letters from Draco to Lucius were normally him bemoaning the stupidity of the professors and headmaster, bragging about how he was doing in his courses, or whining about Harry Potter, who he seemed to have fixated quite the hatred upon. Lucius's replies were typically him agreeing that almost the whole of the staff at Hogwarts were incompetent, reminding him that unless he was receiving perfect marks he could always do better, or telling him that it was "less than prudent" to appear so agnostic towards "the Potter boy."

Meanwhile, Draco's letters to his mother were where the real details of his day-to-day life could be found. He told Narcissa stories about classes and what he was learning in each. He detailed his various exploits with his friends (though Ariadne knew they were all likely far less innocent than he made them sound). He described practically every person he interacted with regularly it seemed, from his new friend Goyle who he met on the Hogwarts Express to the muggle-born Hermione Granger who he seemed to loathe for outshining him in all of their courses. Contrary to his letters to his father in which he was obviously seeking to impress and stimulate pride, his letters to his mother seemed to simply be those of a child who might have been a bit melancholy about leaving the only home he had ever known.

Of course, Ariadne _tried_ to write him herself, but she might have well have thrown her letters into the fire for all the brotherly compassion they seemed to spark in Draco. There was exactly one time that he responded to her before the Christmas holidays. It was about a week after Halloween. He had previously detailed his account of a troll managing to sneak into the castle to theri parents, including a long-winded lament to his mother that Harry Potter hadn't even been injured during his altercation with it. Naturally, both Narcissa and Lucius were up in arms, both threatening to pull their son out of Hogwarts immediately if "Dumbledore couldn't even manage not to let a twelve-foot beast sneak past him." When Ariadne told him about their parents' threats, Draco had finally replied, albeit rather emotionlessly and succinctly.

Ariadne,

Tell Father that he may do whatever he wants to get Dumbledore fired, in fact I implore him to do so, but under no circumstances am I leaving now. He should know that the admiration of others – especially at a level such as that which those here have for me – simply cannot be earned overnight.

Draco

But that letter was the extent of her direct correspondence with Draco until Christmastime. And the Christmas holidays quickly made Ariadne wonder why exactly she had been so desperate for communication with him in the first place.

…

"Dobby!"

The house-elf appeared in a flash. "Yes sir, Master Draco?" he asked in his little trembling voice.

"Fetch me my pumpkin juice," Draco demanded, gesturing lazily to his right.

Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Draco, your glass is literally a meter away."

"Yes, but I am _stuffed_." He patted his slightly extended stomach for emphasis. "I simply cannot manage getting up right now. Besides, what's the point of having a house-elf if you don't use them?"

"Wow, how do you even survive being away at school?"

Draco sneered, grabbing his glass from the elf so forcefully that some of it sloshed onto the floor. "I manage."

"Is there anything else that you be needing, Master Draco or Mistress Ariadne?" Dobby asked, but at that moment a resounding call of "Dobby!" came from downstairs, and Dobby was gone again with a snap of his fingers.

Ariadne clucked her tongue. "You and our parents are going to make that poor elf drop dead from exhaustion the way you run him around."

"Then we'll get another one." Draco shrugged.

Ariadne gave a little sigh but didn't press the subject any further, instead turning back to her new book and borrowing deeper into her chair. It was Christmas evening at Malfoy Manor. The presents had been opened, the feast had been eaten, and all of the guests were still milling about downstairs. It was customary for the Malfoy's to throw a rather large soiree the evening of Christmas (they were certainly not a family that ever missed the chance to show off their wealth and prestige), and this year's been much the same as any other. Draco spent the entire party trying to insert himself into every conversation, and Ariadne made every attempt at escape that she could, to no avail.

"We can't have everyone thinking we're trying to hide you or something. People will talk. Now just sit there quietly and try to look presentable," Narcissa would always say, typically while attempting to surreptitiously smooth her daughter's dress or hair.

So, Ariadne would sit at the table in her assigned spot next to Draco, making polite conversation whenever someone tried to engage her and counting down the minutes until the start of the "adult" portion of the party after dinner, which Ariadne knew was her mother's way of saying that everyone was about to get pissed.

The "adult" portion had commenced approximately half an hour before, which is when Draco and Ariadne had been exiled upstairs, both settling into the second-floor study instead of their respective rooms because this was the one night each year when they could manage to roam the Manor well past their curfew.

Suddenly, Malfoy cast his book to the side and dramatically draped himself over the arm of his chair. "I'm _bored_. Are you not just horribly bored?"

Ariadne didn't look up from her book. "No, not really."

"Ugh," Draco groaned, "I guess it would be hard for the boring to ever get bored."

"Golly, Draco, such abundant Christmas spirit you have."

Draco ignored her, but then suddenly jumped out of his chair. "We can go outside! They aren't using the gardens for the party this year, are they?" He asked excitedly.

"Well, no, I don't think so. But…"

"Well, come on then! Let's go!" Draco grabbed her book from her and hurriedly crammed it back onto one of the shelfs – in the wrong place, Ariadne noted.

"But Draco, there are dozens of people downstairs." she pointed out. "How exactly do you plan to sneak out?"

"You have your broom, haven't you?" Draco asked, as though it was obvious.

Ari's eyes hardened. "You know I don't like flying, Draco. Why don't you just go alone?"

"Well, I can't very well have you staying here alone!" Draco exclaimed. "What if they come up and find you sitting here by yourself?"

"Well I'll just say you've gone to bed then, won't I?"

Draco scoffed. "Oh, stop taking the piss, Ari. Merlin knows you can't lie."

"I can too!"

But Draco simply gave her a dubious look and that's how moments later she found herself being dragged down the hallway leading to her brother's room, where he quickly grabbed a winter cloak and his Comet Two-Sixty off its mounting on the wall. Draco tended to treat his broomsticks a bit like religious artifacts.

"Come on now, let's go get yours." He started lugging his sister back out into the hallway and over to her room, Ariadne protesting quietly the whole way.

"Oh, Draco, come on, I really don't want to. I promise I'll be convincing if they ask where you went. And anyway, it's not like that'll happen. You know how late these parties always last. They won't be up here for at least a couple more hours. And they'll be sloshed anyway."

Draco threw an exasperated look over his shoulder. "Yes, but you know how Mother is. She might come and have a look in on us before the party's over."

"You know, she could always come and have a look in our rooms, too" Ari quarreled, a bit victoriously, as they finally stepped in her bedroom.

"Mother knows I sleep lightly and hate to be awakened. She won't come looking in mine," Draco responded haughtily before looking around the room hurriedly. "And here," he said, stuffing a couple of her pillows under the blankets. "Now if she looks in, it'll look like you're sleeping."

"I'm not sure that's very convincing…"

"Oh, will you just shut up and grab your broom already?" Draco demanded, his eyes flashing.

Ariadne wanted to say no, but she also wasn't a fan of crossing her brother, who had been known to make her life a living hell whenever he was displeased with her. So, she grabbed a cloak from her armoire and dejectedly went to fetch her broomstick from its corner.

"Okay, what now?"

But her question was answered when she saw Draco throwing open one of the great windows, the curtains rippling in the new chilly breeze that entered the room.

"Put on your cloak and let's go," Draco stated simply.

"Oh no, no, no. You can't possibly expect me to…"

"Well, at least we know you aren't a Gryffindor, sis."

"Oh, shut up." Ariadne attempted to steel her nerves, marching towards the open window in what she hoped was a brave manner, but as soon as she took in the distance to the ground below, her face went white and she stumbled back towards the center of the room.

She heard Draco sigh dramatically behind her. "Alright then, you'll just have to ride on mine. Hop on, then." Draco mounted his broom and gestured at the spot behind him impatiently. He rolled his eyes at her hesitant look. "Come on, you know you'll be much safer on here with me than you would be on your own."

"I rather think I'd be safer in a cage with a Chimaera then I would be flying a broomstick."

"Stop being a baby and just get on already. You're wasting the little time we have." When she didn't follow his orders immediately, Draco sighed and softened his voice a bit. "Come on, Ari, I hardly get to fly at school. And it's always in class with stupid Potter and…"

"Oh alright! I'll come. Just as long as you shut up about Harry Potter, I'm getting rather tired of hearing about him every second of the day."

"I don't talk about him _that_ much…" Draco didn't bother to argue anymore though because Ariadne was finally settling herself onto the back of his broom, locking her arms around his waist in a vice grip. "Alright then, don't let go," he ordered.

"Don't worry, I wo-"

Draco took off, soaring out the window and into the night sky. Ariadne screwed her eyes shut and burrowed her face into his shoulder blades. She heard Draco let out a whoop as he tore through the air, and she could almost feel the tension leaving his body as he settled into the familiar act of flying.

"Come on, Ari! You've got to open your eyes. The stars are amazing tonight." She shook her head against his back. "A little peek? Just don't look down, only look up."

Hesitantly, Ariadne began to unscrew her eyes and lift her head off her brother. When she had finally pried her eyes open, the sight was admittedly stunning.

All around them, the stars glittered like hundreds of little diamonds embedded in the sky. The bitter night air made her eyes water, but she fought to keep them open, continuing to stare in awe. It was like the heavens were opening up and swallowing her, but somehow in a comforting way. Comforting, at least, until she made the fatal error of glancing down.

"Draco! Why in Merlin's name are we this high up?" she shouted breathlessly, staring at the ground, which looked to be nearly 100 feet below. In her panic, her arms flailed out and she lost her grip on her brother. In an instant, she was sliding off the back of the broomstick. At the last second, she managed to barely grasp ahold of the end of the broom with one hand.

"Ariadne!" Draco yelled, turning around and attempting to seize her by the front of her cloak. "Give me your other hand!"

She managed to swing her hand up into his but the eleven-year-old boy couldn't muster the strength to pull her back up onto the broom. Instead, he ordered her to hold on and began to make his descent towards the grass below. With just a few feet to go, she lost her grip on the broomstick, her sweaty hand slipped out of Draco's, and she landed in a heap on the ground.

Draco quickly leapt off when he made it to the ground and rushed over to her. "Ari! Ari, are you hurt?"

Ariadne could feel tears starting to form behind her eyes, but she fought to hold them in; Draco always made fun of her when she cried.

"Draco, my wrist…" She found it hard to go on without sobbing so she simply held out her arm in demonstration. Her hand hung uselessly, her wrist seemingly no longer able to support it properly.

"Can you move it at all?" he asked worriedly. She would've liked to think that he was anxious about her wellbeing, but she knew that it was much more likely his concern had to do with their nighttime exploits being revealed to their parents.

She tried to flex her wrist, gasping as a sharp pain immediately shoot through her forearm. "Oh, Draco, I think it's broken!" She felt fresh tears beginning to flood into her eyes, less from the pain this time and more from the dread of having to explain the source of her injury to Lucius and Narcissa in front of all of their auspicious guests. The tears spilled over and her sobs began to ring out across the garden as she lost the fight against her emotions.

"Quiet down, will you?" Draco hissed. "Someone is going to hear you! And besides, I'm trying to think."

Ariadne did her best to hold in her cries and kept the ones that did manage to escape to a minimal volume as Draco stared off into a spot in the distance, brow furrowed. Finally, he spoke, and his plan seemed rather rubbish considering all his contemplation.

"Well, there's nothing for it. We've just got to go back to the Manor…"

"Oh, but they'll be so angry!"

"Hush, Ari, I wasn't finished. We've just got to go back and then fake an injury in the morning and tell them that's how you got hurt. I'm sure Mother will be able to patch it up just fine then." He stood up abruptly, dusting the grass off his trousers, and looked down at Ariadne expectantly as though she should be eagerly jumping back onto the broom after the reveal of his "plan."

She gawked up at him. "You expect me to sit up all night with a broken wrist?" she demanded, flabbergasted.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Ari, be a little less dramatic. I'm sure you've just sprained it."

Ari looked doubtfully at where her hand was lolling pathetically to the side. "You're insane if you expect me to just deal with this for the night so you can avoid getting in trouble."

"You'd get in trouble, too," her brother pointed out.

"But you're the one who made me go!" she exclaimed.

Draco scoffed. "It's not like I was holding a knife to your throat."

"You…you're…Merlin, Draco!" She was speechless.

"Just get on the broom, Ari," he groaned. "I'll fly low and slow. When we get back, I'll see if I can find something to wrap up your wrist for the night and even help get you situated comfortably before I go to bed, okay?"

"Gee, how kind of you."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Get on the broom, Ariadne."

She wanted to protest, but something in her brother's eyes told her that objection wasn't an option. So she mounted the broom, cradling her now-defective arm delicately against her chest as she used her operable one to hold on even tighter than she had for their first ride. When they arrived back in her room, Draco used a couple of his old ties to rather shoddily wrap up her wrist and went off to bed, but not before reminding her – more like threatening – to not see their parents until they had managed to make up a reason for her injury in the morning.

And that was how Ariadne spent Christmas night tossing painfully in her bed, barely sleeping a wink, wondering how she had ever missed her brother in the first place.

…

The next morning, Draco and Ariadne staged a rather histrionic fall down the grand staircase. After Draco made a perhaps overly long series of loud clumping sounds, Narcissa found her daughter "crying" at the bottom of the stairs, holding her wrist pitifully. She made a comment about how the bruises had formed strangely quickly, but didn't seem suspicious otherwise, and soon Ariadne was happily prancing around the house with a once-again fully operational wrist (which had, in fact, been broken).

She and her brother attempted no further wild late-night escapades in the days remaining before his return to school. They spent much of their time reading in the library, Draco occasionally bringing in one of his Hogwarts school books to pedantically enlighten Ariadne with some of his newfound knowledge or mocking her for the "juvenile" level of her own books.

The time passed quickly before the family was once more standing on Platform 9 ¾, waving goodbye as the train carried Draco away once more, and Ariadne remembered once again why she had once been so sad to see him go.

…

A. N. - Hello, there! Please bear with me as this is my first fanfiction on this site, and I am still working out some formatting and posting kinks. This chapter is a much more accurate example of the length you can expect in this story. I hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

The time continued to drag by slowly as Ariadne returned to her predictable pattern – lessons, reading, sleep, lessons, reading, sleep – with only an interlude when Draco returned home for the Easter holidays.

Not much excitement occurred over the course of the that fortnight, however, as Draco was absolutely laden down with work ("It's a break, for Merlin's sake!" Narcissa had bemoaned), and their rare moments of mutual freetime were often spent in a languid food coma after gorging themselves on their new mammoth stash of chocolate eggs. A few thousand calories later, Draco returned to school, and the pattern began again. Lessons, reading, sleep. Lessons, reading, sleep…

A few weeks after Easter, Ariadne finally received her second letter from Draco. The top simply read "CONFIDENTAL," which she assumed was underlined several times in case the giant lettering was somehow too subtle.

Within its pages (he had written three), Draco detailed a rather fantastical story about a night he was forced to spend in the Forbidden Forest from dusk until dawn, fighting off all manner of vile magical creatures as his classmates and the school gamekeeper stood by helplessly. Though Ariadne discerned rather quickly that its contents were less than accurate, she found herself still engrossed in his narrative, lapping up every detail about Hogwarts that she could glean from the letter's pages.

As far as Draco's story went, though, she deduced that the truth was more along the lines of the following: Draco had broken a school rule by venturing out past curfew (for something to do with Harry Potter, of course), he had received a detention that involved a trip into the forest, and he most _definitely_ did not want their parents to know about it.

It was always strange to her when Draco told her secrets. She certainly did not make a habit of confiding in him; all past experiences had taught her that if he had any sort of sensitive information on her, it would automatically be stored away in his conniving little brain to be used as ammunition to get something he wanted later on. So when he did chose to divulge something to her, Ariadne had to wonder what his motive was, or at least why he thought she wouldn't simply emulate his own merciless tactics.

But, in the end, she knew that there were several reasons why. First of all, she was simply much less disposed to engage in any nasty – or really even unpleasant – behaviors, including blackmail. Secondly, he seemed far too aware of the way that he intimidated, and sometimes even downright frightened, her. And, finally, she suspected that he knew that she rather liked feeling as though she was, at least at some times, his confidant.

Draco had possessed a few different little friends growing up, mostly the children of his father's acquaintances, who he had communicated semi-regularly with. Sometimes these friends would join their fathers when they came to call on Lucius, and Draco and the visiting child would go to play in the nursery or in the gardens, consistently either ignoring her completely or putting her in some torturous role of servitude within their game. Ari had taken on the role of a house-elf, fetching countless drinks and snacks from the kitchen, many a time.

Ariadne, on the other hand, had never really had those sort of friends, or really any other children (besides Draco) who she actively desired to interact with. It wasn't due to her parents' lack of trying; she just could never seem to relate much to any of the suitable Pureblood girls put forth as potential playmates. Thus, she kept more or less to herself throughout her entire childhood.

And for that reason –the glaring absence of any other source of confidential information in her life – Ariadne chose to keep the contents of the letter to herself, despite Narcissa's prying.

"Well, I think it's just lovely that he wrote you so much. He's never written me three entire pages, you know." Narcissa's tone did not match her words. Was that jealousy that Ari detected? "Come now, what all did he have to say?"

"It's just a bunch of nonsense, Mother," she responded, never looking up from her dinner. "Seems pretty chuffed about his grades."

"I hardly think 'chuffed' is a suitable word for a young lady," Lucius reprimanded before snapping his fingers to get Dobby to refill his wineglass.

"Sorry, Father. He seemed rather pleased, I mean," Ariadne corrected, trying her best not to sigh audibly.

"I suspect our boy will be a Prefect like his father. Maybe even Head Boy," Narcissa remarked, delicately cutting a petite bite off her steak.

"Unlikely," Lucius drawled. "Not with that halfwit Half-Blood as Headmaster."

Ariadne wanted to tell him that such insults didn't seem suitable for an old man, but she stuffed a roasted new potato into her mouth instead.

"Yes, you're probably right," her mother conceded, carving off yet another tiny morsel of meat.

_No wonder dinner always takes so long,_ Ari groaned internally.

"But at least in a few years' time, we will have two prefects living in the house." Lucius glanced over at Ariadne expectantly, but his daughter wouldn't meet his eye.

It was these sort of conversations that would sometimes make her dread going to Hogwarts, where she knew a laundry list of expectations awaited her. It was as though she and Draco were born with a checklist to complete over the course of their lives. They were both to join Slytherin House. They were both to become prefects and graduate at the top of their class. They were both to marry into another respectable Pureblood line and have lovely little Pureblood children. And, most importantly, they were both to die without ever managing to tarnish the precious Malfoy name in any way.

A moment of silence passed before Ari accepted that her father was not going to move on without a response. "Absolutely, Father," she agreed halfheartedly.

"As you know, I was a prefect, as was my father, along with your grandfather, Cygnus. Your great grandfather Cassius was Head Boy, as well as your fourth cousin Arcturus, but of course that was while your great-great-great grandfather, his grandfather, Phineas was Headmaster…."

Ariadne tuned her father out, as she often did when he launched into a tirade involving her prestigious pedigree and all of their accomplishments. Sometimes she wondered how much brain space he had used up memorizing every single branch of their family tree that he deemed "relevant" – meaning that they hadn't married any Bloodtraitors, Muggle-borns, or, Merlin forbid, Muggles themselves.

"Ariadne – Ariadne, are you listening to me?"

"I'm sorry, Father, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

"You had best correct your habit of drifting off if you desire to perform well in your classes next year. Nevertheless, I was just telling your mother that I received a letter from your grandmother today requesting a visit from you and Draco this summer. I suggested the first three weeks of July."

"Three weeks!" Ariadne exclaimed, unable to help herself. "Which estate?"

"The French one in the countryside, of course."

"Oh, but Father there is absolutely nothing to do there! And Grandmother always wants me to help clear the Horklump infestation in the northeast garden and then makes me juice them for her potions."

"Well that's something to do then, isn't it?"

From her father's expression, Ariadne knew that arguing was futile. So instead, she resigned herself to her fate and commenced the only portion of family dinner that she ever really enjoyed: dessert.

…

Draco Malfoy had never been so livid in his entire (admittedly short) life.

_Special Potter with his special scar. Who's ever heard of 170 points doled out at the end-of-year feast? To hell with him and that Bloodtraitor Weasley and that awful Mudblood Granger with her fancy top marks…_

Slytherin had won the House Cup for seven years in a row before he came to school, and he had eagerly been awaiting sharing in their glory. But then that halfwit Dumbledore had gone and lavished points upon Gryffindor for their so-called bravery in the dungeons when they stopped Professor Quirrell from stealing the Philosopher's Stone. Draco had spent almost a year taking in Quirrell's quaking form and trembling voice during every Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The events that had transpired didn't seem like much of an accomplishment to him.

Draco spent the entire ride on the Hogwarts Express moping about his compartment as Crabbe and Goyle stuffed their giant, beastly faces with a multitude of sweets from the cart. For his entire life, Draco had looked forward to his time at Hogwarts where he envisioned himself at the top of his class, leading the Quidditch team to countless victories, and surrounded by countless sniveling admirers who wished to be his friends. After all, he was _Draco Malfoy_.

But instead, it had been Potter who became the youngest Seeker in a century. Potter who earned the veneration of all the students in the school. And his stupid little Mudblood friend was currently positioning her filthy self right at the top of the class.

Perhaps worst of all, Draco's father always seemed to have a way of hearing about things, and he was not looking forward to Lucius's reaction with he found out that his son was currently being bested by a Muggleborn.

And react, he did.

All had been well when he greeted his family at Kings Cross. He had suffered through Narcissa's kiss on the head, smiled at his father when he gave him a generous pat on the back, and dodged Ariadne's attempt at a hug. Then the family had returned to the Manor where life seemed little changed since he had left. But then, one night at dinner, the other shoe dropped.

"I heard some interesting news today, Draco," Lucius began, voice betraying no emotion whatsoever, "when I was speaking with Silas Nott today – whose son Theodore is in your year as I am sure you are aware – and he informed me that according to his son, a _Mudblood_ by the name of Hermione Granger received the top marks in every single one of your classes. Is that correct?"

Lucius's eyes flashed a bit when Draco met them but his face otherwise remained impassive. Narcissa's expression was equally blank, so Draco assumed that they had already discussed this matter. Ariadne was staring determinedly at her plate, her favorite means of mid-dinner confrontation avoidance.

"Well, Father, I can't be expected to be sure exactly where all of the students in my grade stand in every-"

"Oh, so a Mudblood is _not _outperforming you in every class then?"

"I didn't say that I just-"

"What a shame," Lucius lamented, sighing heavily. "What a shame, Draco. How could you expect to become Head Boy, or even a Prefect, if a Mudblood is managing to best you in every subject?"

Draco felt his cheeks grow hot, and he found himself glancing at his sister, who finally met his eye to flash him a small, sympathetic smile. His face reddened even more. Ariadne was not supposed to feel sorry for _him_. But despite his humiliation, he hardened his expression and looked firmly into his father's eyes. "I will do better next year."

Lucius studied him for a moment. "Good," he finally responded before returning to his meal.

Dinner continued to drag by in an awkward half silence as Draco moodily picked at his food, avoiding Ariadne's concerned gaze because every time he met her eye and saw the pity there, he could feel his angry steadily mounting. Finally, they finished their dessert – a bit of chocolate cake that Draco would've quite enjoyed under normal circumstances – and the children were dismissed from the table. Draco attempted to dash up to his room, but Ariadne managed to successfully keep pace with him the entire way, much to his chagrin.

"I'm sorry that he was like that. It's not your fault that there's a smart Muggleborn in your year," she began as soon as they were out of their parents' earshot.

"Isn't it?" he sighed, already hating where this conversation was going.

Her brow furrowed. "Of course not. How would it be?"

"Well, we've had tutors in half of this stuff for, what, five or six years? She found out that she's a witch probably less than a year ago. And yet, somehow, she got better marks in everything."

"Well surely she isn't the only one who beat you? It's not that big of a-"

Draco stopped midway up the stairs. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, scarlet-faced again, though this time more from fury than shame.

Ariadne's eyes went wide, and she looked a bit appalled as she realized the implications of what she had just said. "No, I didn't mean…I just meant…what I was-"

"Do you think I'm daft or something? 'Surely not the only one.' Piss off." With that, Draco began marching back up the stairs as Ariadne jogged up behind him, attempting to explain herself.

"Of course, I don't think you're daft, Draco!" she began, her voice steadily getting higher and faster as she went along. "It's just that surely a couple of Ravenclaws must have done better, maybe? They're the smart, studious ones, right? That's all I meant by that. I just don't get why the Muggleborn girl in particular is such a big deal."

Draco finally reached his door and whipped around to face her. "You never understand things like this, though I don't know why because it's not that hard to understand," he sneered. "They are _below _us, Ariadne. Their blood is inferior, their magic is inferior, everything about them is inferior. But those bloody stupid Muggle-loving professors gave _her_ top marks!"

Ariadne paused, obviously searching for words as her mouth opened a few times just to close again before any words escaped.

"You look like a dumb fish doing that," Draco mocked. "Just shut your mouth already and leave me alone."

Then Draco marched into his room, slamming his door in her face so he wouldn't have to deal with her reaction.

…

A little over an hour later, there was a knock at Draco's door. He briefly considering feigning sleep, but instead sighed and reluctantly called, "come in!"

It was Narcissa, a dark silky dressing gown billowing out behind her as she trod quietly into the room and over to his bed. She perched herself gracefully on the edge, simply looking at him quietly for a moment before speaking.

"I've just come from your sister's room," she began.

_Oh, lovely_, Draco thought.

"She seems rather upset, but she will not tell me why. Do you by any chance happen to know the reason?" She arched her brows in an expression rather similar to one that Draco was known for. When it came to both of them, it often accompanied a purely rhetorical question.

"Who know," Draco shrugged, those his attempt at nonchalance was admittedly unconvincing. "She's always been a bit of a crier, that one."

"Draco…"

"Look, she just doesn't know when to stop talking!" Draco exclaimed. "It's not my fault she has no social awareness."

Narcissa looked like she was considering scolding him for insulting his sister, but instead she simply sighed. "Would this be about the dinner conversation, then?"

"Possibly," Draco sniffed.

Narcissa's face softened a bit. "Draco, you know that you still made wonderful marks this year, don't you? You're such a clever boy…"

"Well, tell that to Father, then."

Narcissa hesitated again before responding. "Your father does think you are very clever, Draco. We are both very proud of you. It's just that your father has very high expectations, you know that reputation and prestige are very important in this family. And I do believe that you could do better if you perhaps applied yourself a bit more–"

"Wow, thank you, I feel a lot better now." Draco rolled over moodily, facing the wall. He felt Narcissa reach over and begin to stroke his hair.

"It will be fine, Draco. Your father will get over it. And besides, you have three more full years left before they pick prefects. It will all be fine in the end."

Draco rolled his eyes, though he knew that she couldn't see. Reminding his that there would always be a chance to be perfect later on was such a quintessentially Malfoy means of comfort.

"But, Draco, do apologize to your sister. You know she only ever means to help," his mother gently reprimanded.

"Well that would be fine if she'd just get better at it."

"Draco…"

"Alright, alright. I'll apologize," he conceded.

Narcissa stayed in his room for a few more minutes, gently running her fingers through his hair in a way that reminded him of nights when he younger and would have night terrors. While his pride made him want to tell her to stop and let him go to sleep, he found himself unable to, luxuriating in the feeling of just being her little boy for a moment.

…

A. N. - Hello! I'd like to apologize for the lengthy gap between this chapter and my last two. My goal is to post every week to week and a half, but for the last two and a half weeks, life has been barraging me with a load of boring things that none of you want to hear about. I'm sorry for the fluffy nature of this chapter - it is not how I typically prefer to write - but I will be sending Ari off to Hogwarts with her brother within the next couple of chapters, and I am trying to give you (the readers) a firm sense of the various relationships between the members of the Malfoy family.

Please comment and critic! It's a bit late for me here, so just know if there are more errors than usual, I will be doing a reread through again tomorrow and will edit and repost if it seems necessary.

Cheers!


End file.
